


in this life like weeds

by MrTobyWednesday



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, M/M, mlm author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4995847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrTobyWednesday/pseuds/MrTobyWednesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you are a rock to me.</p><p>ficlet prompts focused on my inquisitor, raleigh trevelyan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. knight-enchanter

**Author's Note:**

> raleigh is gay, trans masc, mentally ill, and disabled (double amputee; right leg and left arm). he has a cornish accent. [screencaps](http://imgur.com/a/iQGu3)

With a wide swing, the tip of his sword sings through the air; the blade cuts deep into a Red Templar’s shoulder, burying itself between gaps in its armor. A growth of red lyrium shatters from the impact, sending shards through the air like an explosion of broken glass. The shout of pain from the Templar is inhuman as Raleigh dematerializes his sword and lets the green-glowing tendrils of magic wink out of existence. Before the Templar can recollect itself and raise its own sword, Raleigh sends it staggering backward into another one with a swift kick to its chest. Both Templars topple to the ground and Raleigh finishes them off by detonating a fire glyph beneath them.

Just as Raleigh turns to face a hulking knight barreling toward him, the Iron Bull plows the Templar over and almost knocks him to the ground with it.

“Whoa, hey! Watch it,” Raleigh yelps, ducking to the side as the knight narrowly misses him and crashes to the ground. Bull laughs from his belly and surges forward to cleave the disoriented Red Templar in half with ease. Raleigh swings his staff and sends a fireball through the air, hitting a distant marksman before it can knock an arrow and aim for either of them.

“Nice one, boss,” Bull says. “But I’m still one kill ahead!”

Raleigh grits his teeth, huffing petulantly, and sends another fireball at Bull. It singes his cheek; Bull curses and stumbles backward, but Raleigh just cracks a cheeky grin at him.

“Don’t test me, Bull,” Raleigh says with a laugh and no real malice. Shouts from the rest of their party – Cassandra, Dorian, and Cole – alert them to more incoming Red Templars. “And if you try to crush me with another of those damned brutes, Dorian’ll have your head on a pike!”

“ _Venhedis_ , you two, focus,” Dorian chides over the roar of his own magic. He’s blasting a guard with its back turned to him while Cassandra jams its shield with her own. Standing atop a rocky outcropping to keep his distance from the Red Templars, he has to yell to be heard. “I’ll have _both_ your heads if you don’t stop with this little game of yours!”

Bull laughs and cuts down another knight, then brandishes his axe proudly. “The boss is the one who suggested we find out if his shitty little Fade-sword is better than my war axe. Yet who’s up on _two_ kills now and no hits taken?”

“One hit taken,” Raleigh corrects. Fire wisps around his fingertips as a reminder and he flashes another smug grin when Bull grunts. “Keep up that bragging of yours and I’ll make it two.”

“Just focus, would you?” Dorian yells, swinging his staff around to aim for a Red Templar trying to take advantage of Raleigh’s seemingly let-down guard. Before he can send a bolt of lightning to cut through the air, though, Raleigh turns on his heels and rematerializes his sword. Magic thrums and pulses, shimmering brilliantly as he swings, easily countering the Templar’s weapon. With a forward rush, he pushes the Templar back and forces it off-balance, then cuts it down as easily as if he’d been wielding a sword his whole life.

Dorian is almost shocked, but he knows how much Raleigh loves being in the thick of battle – he’d been practicing with a sword well before his Knight-Enchanter training, before coming to Skyhold, before Corypheus even thought to target Haven.

Bull and Cole both go to Cassandra’s aid when the guard slams its shield into hers, and Raleigh signals Dorian to target the last of the knights. Dorian lays down glyphs and Raleigh lures them into each, then finishes them off with his blade and his own fire magic. Exhausted by the time he picks them off, Raleigh takes just a few moments to steady his breathing. He’s panting and his staff is heavy in his hands, but he forces himself to keep going.

Red lyrium litters the ground with each downed Templar; Raleigh is careful where he steps when he turns his attention to the last guard, but from his high vantage point Dorian can see how difficult it’s becoming for him to even manage that.

As skilled as he’s become as a Knight-Enchanter, he still doesn’t have the stamina to match it.

“Look out!” Dorian shouts as the guard breaks through both Cassandra and Bull, rushing forward to force them off-balance. Raleigh shouts and tries to duck away, but the guard is too fast and his feet are too heavy. It knocks him hard to the ground, but Cole uses the opportunity to sink both of his daggers into its back. Cassandra, the first to regain her balance, smacks it to the ground with the pommel of her sword.

Before the guard even hits the ground, before Cassandra wrenches its shield away and Bull chops its head off, Dorian is running down to Raleigh, yelling, “ _Kaffas_ , if you’re dead, I’ll _kill_ you!”

Crumpled on the ground, Raleigh is groaning weakly and struggling to sit up. Dorian reaches him just as he manages to flip himself onto his back.

“That hurt,” he says pathetically. He exhales, hissing softly at the sharp pain it causes his rib cage.

“Are you alright?” Cassandra asks, jogging over and kneeling beside him. Dorian is standing at his other side, looking ready to choke him. Raleigh grinds his teeth and chokes back a whimper as she helps him slowly sit up, but he finally nods.

“Think I broke my arm, though…and a rib,” he says, grimacing. “Hurts to breathe.”

“ _Is he alright_ ,” Dorian scoffs. “Obviously not! You have to be more careful, amatus. Before you give us all heart attacks.”

“Before you give _me_ a–” Cole starts, but Bull cuts him off for Dorian’s sake.

“So does this mean I won?”

Raleigh nearly hacks up a lung, much to Dorian’s dismay, when he laughs. “Before I fell on my arse like an idiot, I _did_ take down three more, you know. That puts me at one ahead.”

“Sure, but you’re also _wrecked_. You fell like a sack of potatoes, _and_ it’s not the first hit you took. That was embarrassing, boss!”

Dorian makes a frustrated noise and shakes his head. “He’s a Knight-Enchanter, not a hulking Qunari! What did you expect after he was whacked in the face by a bloody Templar shield?”

Bull just snickers at Dorian’s transparent concern, and Cole tries to soothe his anger; Raleigh rolls his eyes but casts Dorian a look of pure fondness as Cassandra checks his injuries over. He winces and curses, but stays put, as she pulls off most of his armor.

“I suggest not moving around much until we get you to a healer. We’ve no idea how extensive your wounds may be, and I doubt Dorian will be very happy if they get any worse,” she says, giving Dorian a sidelong glance as she straightens. “Bull, you should carry him back to camp.” She shoves Raleigh’s armor pieces into Dorian’s hands, but before he can object, she adds, “He’s your walking disaster, thus your responsibility.”

Bull hoists Raleigh onto his back as carefully as he can manage. “For what it’s worth, you’re one hell of a fighter for a twiggy little mage.”

“Twiggy?” Raleigh gasps, mock-offended. “I’ll have you know even _Dorian of House Pavus_ marvels at my physique!”

Dorian jabs him in the ribs to make him cry out painfully, but in turn, Raleigh kicks a leg out to knock his armor pieces out of Dorian’s hands. Bull grins and takes off running when Dorian reaches for his staff.

“Maker fucking preserve me,” he groans.


	2. stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just something short and quick.

Dorian cups Raleigh’s face with a hand and uses his thumb to gently stroke his cheek. Raleigh smiles and closes his eyes, pulling the sheets up further to trap more warmth. It’s cold in Raleigh’s quarters, but the fire is going and the bed is warm. With plenty of scouts out on missions, Raleigh insisted on taking a much needed personal day; Dorian accepted and immediately dragged him back to bed.

“You’re staring,” Raleigh hums after a while. Dorian chuckles and the sound is like music to his ears.

“Of course I am,” Dorian says. “Those freckles of yours really are quite something, amatus.”

Raleigh’s face flushes and he giggles a little, opening his eyes again. Dorian is still watching him, touching his face lovingly, eyes alight with fascination. Raleigh turns onto his stomach and pushes his face into the pillow, embarrassed. Dorian just shifts to curl up against his side and starts tracing the freckles along his back and shoulders. 

They’re like a map of the stars, Dorian wants to say, but that’s just far too syrupy for him. Raleigh would never let him live it down – as much as he’d also thoroughly enjoy it. He kisses a trail along his shoulder blade, which elicits a shiver and a pleased hum from Raleigh.

“S’nice, Doe,” he says sleepily, closing his eyes again. Dorian’s cheeks pink at the nickname and he prods the back of Raleigh’s head.

“Enough with the nicknames, they’re embarrassing,” he mumbles.

“You embarrassed me first,” Raleigh counters. He lifts his head from the pillow to smile at Dorian, who just laughs and shifts closer on the bed.

Dorian keeps tracing Raleigh’s skin, counting each freckle he finds and naming each for a star in the sky. He makes up stars, too, makes up constellations, marvels at the expanse of sun-kissed skin. Raleigh is humming some tavern song quietly, enjoying Dorian’s light, fingertip touches. He watches him fondly, eyes following his sharp angles and curves while he isn’t looking. He’s gorgeous – something Dorian himself is acutely aware of, but Raleigh loves him for it anyway – and Raleigh feels like he’s stargazing.


	3. the anchor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for blood/gore, amputation, and a brief mention of suicidal ideation. (raleigh's emotional state goes down the shitter post-corypheus tbh.)

Every second crawls by slower than Dorian can stand when Raleigh finally comes back through the eluvian.

He collapses in a heap into Dorian’s arms, panting, sweating, barely conscious. Dorian sees a glint of something in Raleigh’s eyes that scares him to his core. (Defeat, he realizes later. He gave up. He fully expected to die, or to kill himself, after everything was over. He saw the end, finally, and Solas took that away from him. It terrifies Dorian even more to know that.)

Varric, beside him, is the first to notice Raleigh’s anchor-hand: limp by his side, the green-glowing cracks of the anchor ripped into his skin like long, deep gashes, each bleeding in steady rivulets. The pulses of Fade-magic grow dimmer and dimmer with each passing second.

“Shit, Sparkler. His hand,” Varric says gravely, and Dorian follows his eyes down. Raleigh’s gauntlet is gone, copper-stained sleeve in tatters up to his shoulder. One finger is already missing, the rest of his hand and arm looking ready to crack and fall apart at any given moment. It's like watching a stone split and fragment apart in slow motion. Raleigh groans pitifully and Dorian has to force back tears again.

“Amatus,” he supplies helplessly. Raleigh cringes and grits his teeth against the waves of intense pain.

“We need to cut it off before it gets any worse,” Varric says, looking to the others. “Shit, before it falls off _itself_.”

Nobody wants to make the first move. It feels like hours before Cassandra finally steps forward and pulls Raleigh away from him. The smallest mercy is that they aren’t apart for long as they figure out how to do it without trained healers around this time.

Dorian doesn’t remember much after that. Just the muffled, gasping sound of Raleigh’s sobs against the crook of his neck, the gushing flow of red when his hand is finally gone, and the smell of burning skin when what’s left is sealed with fire.

None of it feels real to him, and thinking back on it is like watching someone else’s half-remembered nightmare. Raleigh never talks about what happened; he just brushes it off like it’s nothing, and Dorian hates it.

(“I already lost my leg, Doe. What’s a hand, too?” And every time, he sees that same defeated look in his eyes. Dorian wants to shake him and yell: “Everything. I almost lost _you_.”)

If Dorian is sure of anything in his life, it’s that he never wants to see Raleigh go through something like that ever again.


	4. smiling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like to imagine cole’s facial expressions match the emotions he’s reading.

“You’re happier now, Dorian.” There’s a smile in Cole’s voice when he appears at Dorian’s side, intrigued by his own observation. (Dorian nearly jumps out of his skin when Cole is just suddenly _there_ , but Cole gives him an innocent puppy-dog look. Dorian has learned over the months to just let it slide.)

Dorian hums jovially and looks up to the sky, crisp and clear and deep blue. He can hear Raleigh’s honey-smooth voice as he discusses something with Cassandra and Varric ahead of them. His heart flutters, and Cole smiles wider.

“Is that what that light, tingly feeling is? I suppose you’re right,” Dorian says.

There’s a laugh from Raleigh and Dorian looks over, watches how his shoulders shake and how he throws his head back. Raleigh is all ear-to-ear grins and bad jokes and the most open body language Dorian’s ever witnessed; it threw him off when they first met, after growing up surrounded by chronic distrust. But Raleigh’s an open book and that’s a welcome change from Tevinter.

He wants to know what Raleigh is laughing about. He always does. It’s new to him, wanting something like that – so completely domestic. Cole touches his arm to get his attention again.

“Wishing but wondering, wounded and wistful. What if he doesn’t want me after?” Cole’s expression is soft, contemplative, almost far away – a face Dorian has often worn whenever Raleigh’s been off somewhere without him.

Yet he sounds so sickeningly fond to his own ears when he says, with complete surety: “But he did.”

“Now you’re smiling,” Cole giggles. “It’s good.”

Dorian covers his mouth with a hand, feigning rubbing his chin to bashfully hide his smile. Raleigh briefly looks over his shoulder as he walks, catches Dorian’s eyes on him, and flashes a little grin. Then Varric shoves him and he laughs again – music to Dorian’s ears.

“Lonely, layered, shoulders heavy – smiles like plated armor, they won’t ask if I don’t show them,” Cole says, suddenly. His eyebrows knit together and he frowns. Interest piqued, Dorian raises an eyebrow. Raleigh? “I shouldn’t be here. But _he’s_ here. I shouldn’t, but I want to be.”

Oh.

“Survivor’s guilt,” Dorian says. Cole nods once.

“You make it easier, Dorian.”

_Oh._

And Cole is back to smiling just as quickly as he’d stopped.

“ _But he’s here_ ,” he repeats, voice so wistful and fond Dorian can almost hear Raleigh saying it instead of Cole. “Firelight and warmth, tucked away, plated armor forgotten and then it’s all real; they won’t ask because they don’t need to. It’s good.”

In front of them, Raleigh is laughing again, and Dorian wants to remember the sound of it forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to clarify what cole says about raleigh: he puts up a front like he isn't traumatized, overworked, and unhappy so people don't ask him about the conclave or about being the herald/inquisitor.


	5. moment alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it was only a matter of time before i wrote porn, i guess.

Raleigh falls back onto the bed with a sigh, turning to press his face into the pillows as Dorian crawls over him. He’s smirking wickedly, tracing the scars on Raleigh’s chest with fingertip-light touches that make him shiver.

After stealing away to Raleigh’s quarters for a “moment alone,” as Raleigh had so innocently called it, heated kisses had led to over-eager grinding and Dorian quickly discovering him wet and wanting. Their clothing had been abandoned and forgotten in a heap on the floor soon after.

Now, though, arousal spikes hot in Raleigh’s gut at the sight of Dorian hovering over him with a hunger clearly written on his face. His eyes are dark, mischievous, and his smirk won’t go away.

Clearly he’s already decided exactly where he wants this to go.

Not that Raleigh would ever complain about Dorian taking the reins.

Dorian leans down and pulls him into a long, deep kiss, licking eagerly into his mouth. Both hands are running along his chest, stomach, and sides; Dorian is spurred on by the soft moans Raleigh sighs into his mouth, and one hand ventures down further.

Teasingly, Raleigh closes his legs. Dorian just shifts his knee between and pushes his legs open, then one finger’s rubbing Raleigh firmly and any witty remarks die in his throat.

“Cute how you still think that could work, amatus,” Dorian breathes. Raleigh whines and Dorian just rubs his clit harder until he’s quaking. “Is it good?”

Raleigh almost laughs – Dorian is so full of himself. Of _course_ it’s good. He’s already dripping wet and Dorian knows it, revels in the effect he has on Raleigh. Void take him, but the effect is always brilliant.

Instead of stroking his ego, Raleigh says cheekily, with lidded eyes and a half-smile: “Could be better.”

It takes everything he has to resist pushing his hips up into Dorian’s touch, but it doesn’t help when he isn’t convincing anyway.

The heat in his gut coils when Dorian, taking that as a challenge, leans down to lick and suck his neck. He pushes one finger inside at the same time he sucks up a dark hickey, and Raleigh melts under him like butter. His teeth scrape over the mark he leaves and then he’s kissing and tonguing it soothingly, Raleigh shaking underneath him.

“Better?” he asks, moving his finger in and out slowly. He’s adding a second already and Raleigh is moaning unabashedly, hips canting, head thrown back. Giving up, Dorian observes. No point in teasing when he’s an open book, always. “Ooh, I win already, then?”

Instead of answering, Raleigh reaches to thread one hand through Dorian’s hair, the other snaking around his middle. He tugs Dorian into another kiss, licking at his lips until he opens his mouth. Dorian is still thrusting his fingers, slow and steady. The resulting whine as Raleigh breaks the kiss is all the answer Dorian needs. His face is flushed, eyes blown dark, and Dorian drinks in the sight of him.

The arm around his middle is scratching gently at his skin as Dorian pushes in a third finger.

“Doe, please,” Raleigh gasps desperately.

“Of course, amatus,” Dorian chuckles. He withdraws all three fingers and Raleigh almost sobs at the loss – but then Dorian is crawling down, kissing a long trail from throat to chest to stomach and down further. Raleigh’s skin tingles under Dorian’s lips and he spreads his legs more as Dorian settles in front of him.

Raleigh hooks his legs over Dorian’s shoulders and shifts to lean up on his elbows so he can watch. Dorian looks up at him, kissing the inside of his thigh, breath warm and wet against him. Tracing over the sensitive skin with his tongue, Dorian’s smirk is practically _audible_ when Raleigh pushes his hips up impatiently.

“Please,” Raleigh repeats. Dorian obliges happily, spreading him open and licking with the flat of his tongue. Raleigh gasps and moans eagerly, gripping and pulling at the bed sheets as Dorian goes down on him. He pants and squirms, already close as he starts tensing up. Flicks of Dorian’s tongue against his clit make him whimper, and he knows Dorian is rocking against the bed when he hears it creaking under the shifting weight.

Mercilessly, Dorian sucks and licks until Raleigh is repeating his name like a chantry prayer, breathless and desperate; the tickle of facial hair just makes Raleigh want more. His hips rock against Dorian’s face; he lays back again, reaches with both hands to grip and pull his hair. Dorian moans his approval and, Maker damn him, Raleigh is so close he almost comes from the sensation.

But it’s when Dorian pushes his fingers in again that Raleigh is sent over the edge. Dorian rubs his insides, thrusting in time with the firm lapping movements of his tongue, stretching him open. Raleigh comes with a gasp, all the tension that built up releasing like a spring, and Dorian presses his fingers into Raleigh’s sweet spot while he rides it out.

“F-Fuck – Dorian! Oh, Maker!” Raleigh shouts, pulling Dorian’s hair and moaning loud enough for the sound to echo against the high ceilings of his quarters. He shakes and squirms, whimpering until Dorian finally pulls away, then collapses back onto the bed to catch his breath.

Climbing back up to lay beside him, Dorian catches Raleigh’s lips in a smug kiss. Barely recovered, Raleigh has neither the capacity to register his own taste on his lips nor the energy to kiss back with any skill. His lips move clumsily against Dorian’s and his entire body is still thrumming with a lingering high.

“You are…,” he tries, as soon as they break apart. He tries again: “You’re too good at that… Maker’s fucking breath, Doe.”

“A wonder, with all the practice I’ve had.” Raleigh flushes at that; Dorian just looks pleased with himself. All that vain boasting and overconfidence has to come from somewhere, after all.

Shifting closer to kiss Dorian’s chest, he just replies: “Give me a minute and I’ll make sure all _my_ practice won’t go to waste, then.”


	6. tired

“Does it ever get any easier?”

“I’ll let you know.”

Raleigh watches Hawke’s back, the way his shoulders sag and his posture dips. He looks dead tired, something Raleigh knows all too well.

Too many people depending on him for too many things – Raleigh loved it at first, knowing he finally had the power to help people in need. But it’s already too much; Haven is gone, innocent people are dead, Corypheus is an ever-looming threat, and Raleigh already feels like the little tasks – the commoners with common problems – are just wasting what little time he has. He hates himself for that, and for wishing the world would just stop _demanding_ him, but he’s just so tired. Of everything.

In the back of his head, too, he knows Dorian was right that nobody would thank him.

He doesn’t know how Hawke did it for years. Still does it. Especially when separated from his friends for so long – from Anders, now, too.

For the first time, Raleigh just hopes he’ll die when it’s all finally over.

It’s a fleeting thought with little weight to it, but eventually it gains traction after Corypheus is defeated and the Inquisition just keeps _going_.

Raleigh hates it. He never stops hating it.


	7. alcohol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for alcoholism.

Raleigh knew since the moment Dorian made a comment about drinking himself into a stupor that he should have stayed – should have stopped him. But he also knew that Dorian needed space.

So he regrets giving him that space when he can’t find Dorian at the end of the day. Asking around is just as useless as looking – nobody saw him since he left the tavern hours earlier with enough alcohol for three people. He’s not in the library, not in his quarters, not wandering the battlements.

Raleigh makes a beeline for his own quarters when every other option is exhausted, cursing himself inwardly for not realizing sooner.

He climbs the steps two at a time and finds Dorian at the foot of his bed, disheveled and surrounded by empty bottles. Raleigh crosses over to him and crouches down.

“Dorian,” he says, softly. Ashamed, Dorian looks away. “It’ll be alright. I’m here now.”

Raleigh cups Dorian’s cheek gently, but Dorian just flinches away. Raleigh lets him, and drops his hand. He looks down to the bottle of brandy clutched in his hands, newly opened.

“I thought…,” Dorian tries. He sits up more, straightens his back, crosses his legs to make himself look more presentable – less like a walking disaster. He tries again, mouth forming around words he can’t think of. Then he just exhales and mumbles, “I don’t know.”

Raleigh sighs. “It’s hard, I get that. What your father wanted to do – and what he did by cornering you – it’s wrong. It’s terrible. But drinking yourself to death isn’t the answer.”

Dorian bristles at that. “It’s been answer enough for me in the past.”

Shaking his head, Raleigh places his hands over Dorian’s, over the bottle of brandy clutched in them. Dorian deflates without flinching away this time, and Raleigh slowly pries his fingers off the bottle and pulls it away. He sets it aside with the empty ones and sits beside Dorian, close enough for their shoulders to touch.

"I'm sorry I let this happen," Raleigh says, like it's his fault Dorian brought his alcoholism with him when he joined the Inquisition. Dorian looks at him, finally, and Raleigh hates having to see the pain there.

“You didn’t,” he replies, and rests his forehead against Raleigh’s shoulder. Raleigh shifts to wrap one arm around Dorian and pull him close.

“I’m here now. I’ll stay here, if you’ll have me.” He kisses Dorian’s hair. Then he ventures: “I’m sure I can be healthier for you than Ferelden piss-ale.”  


Dorian’s laugh is soft and breathy, so quiet Raleigh almost misses it. “Brandy. I went with brandy, this time.”

“Still Ferelden. Still piss.”

“True,” Dorian says, and for a moment he feels like he can just forget.


End file.
